


Softly

by PepperF



Series: Short stuff [4]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The leaves were tiny...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Softly

**Author's Note:**

> For schmoop_age, prompt: Fishing leaves out of a lover's hair.
> 
> For anyone more expert than me on arboriculture, I should confess: I have no idea what trees these are. They grow in my head.

The leaves were tiny, about the size of a fingertip - silvery on the top, dark green underneath, and perfectly symmetrical, so that when they fell they spun rapidly in the air, the pale side catching the light in flashes of brilliance. It was impossible to focus on the path of just one leaf. From the ground, gazing up, it looked as though the sky was a constant, restless mass of shimmering green sparks.

Perhaps this hadn't been the best place to stop. Jack had a suspicion they were getting covered. But at the moment he was perfectly happy to sit idly fishing the leaves out of Sam's hair, one by one – fruitlessly, because no sooner had he snagged one then another would land.

"We could move if you want," she said drowsily, making no effort to get up. Her head was heavy against his chest.

"Nah. I'm good." And he really meant that. He could happily sit here, his back against the rough bark of the tree and her warm in his arms, for all eternity. Or at least until his ass went numb and his legs dropped off.

She hmm'd in reply, too relaxed to talk.

He picked a tiny leaf from her hair and trailed it along her forehead, making her screw her face up and swat vaguely at him. Then he rolled it between finger and thumb, the resilient bit of greenery curling into a loose cylinder. A tuft of her currently-quite-short hair was sticking up, so he carefully threaded the leaf onto it, and leaned his head back to admire the effect. He was admittedly no color expert, but the green looked pretty against the pale gold of her hair. He picked out another leaf, and threaded it onto the same hair, like beads on a necklace. And then another, and another. The leaves were very light, so he was able to make quite a stack before the hair bent and scattered curled leaves over her ear and onto her shoulder.

"What're you doing?" she asked – and it said a lot for how lazy she was feeling that she didn't make any attempt to move away or check for herself.

"Nothin'," he said, casually brushing them away. They both fell silent, as a gust of wind made the glittering leaves spin and dance in the air, and skitter through the grass with a whispering noise. He stroked a hand through her hair, making her sigh comfortably, and leaving more of her hair sticking upright, ruffled. Another leaf alighted.

"We should probably go back soon," she murmured. He was pleased by the evident reluctance in her voice, and the fact that – despite her strong sense of duty - she still made no move to get up.

"Yeah," he said, non-committally. He picked up the leaf and rolled it, threading it into her hair. Then he picked up another leaf, and threaded it onto a different piece of hair.

Hmmm...

Her breathing slowed and deepened as, slowly and delicately, he threaded leaf after leaf into her hair, until she had a carpet of leaf-beads across her head, and she seemed to have fallen asleep on him. He grinned at his handiwork, wondering how long it would take her to notice, and how exactly she would punish him. He gathered her closer - gently so as not to wake her - and brushed his lips against the tips of her hair.

"Sam," he breathed into the warm shadows, his voice no louder than the leaves. She stirred and mumbled something unintelligible. She'd definitely dozed off, and didn't appear to intend to wake up any time soon. Well, he didn't mind.

He leaned his head back against the tree to watch the dance of the leaves, and held her all through the golden afternoon.

\---

END.


End file.
